“There were things that did not align,” he murmured, looking down at the book. “Monies moved to offshore accounts twenty years ago. Regular payments to a private security firm in southern Illinois.”

Miranda watched him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Julian, you are my son,” she whispered. “You run this company. You cannot let them take it.”

“I run a company built on a lie, Mother,” Julian said.

He looked toward the window, where the dark waters of Lake Michigan beat against the stone seawall below.

“I wanted to know the truth,” Julian said. “I have been searching for it for a very long time.”

He looked at the desk, where Vale was smoothing out the old parchment.

“And I am not the only one who wanted justice,” Julian added.

He glanced at the doorway, as if expecting someone else to appear.

Vale turned a page of the document, the dry paper rustling in the quiet room.

“There is also the matter of the secondary accounts,” Vale said, looking at Miranda. “The ones you attempted to close last Tuesday.”